


Candance and the Head

by orphan_account



Category: TMNT (2007)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 13:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17060258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A bittersweet Christmas tale taking place during Leonardo's training mission. Cowabunga Carl attends a party and leaves something behind.~*~Posted for the 2018 Holiday Advent Calendar~*~





	Candance and the Head

**Author's Note:**

> I tried very hard to make this light-hearted and funny, but that's clearly not my strength. Though this story may not be the most hopeful, I sincerely wish you all a happy holiday. May you find joy in this story and all the other Advent Calendar works. 
> 
> Merry Christmas 2018!  
> xoxo Cowabunga Carl
> 
> Like my work? Follow me on [Tumblr](https://freakshowfemme.tumblr.com)

If it weren’t for his job, there was no way Mikey ever would have found himself in a swanky Manhattan apartment on Christmas Eve. Swanky Manhattan apartments weren’t the typical setting for Cowabunga Carl’s services, but Mikey enjoyed the digs, even if he was sort of confused as to what, exactly, he was doing there. Candance Morgan, the night’s boss lady, had disappeared shortly after answering the door and gesturing vaguely towards the living room. Mikey had been wallflowering ever since, wishing there was a way to stuff the decadent smelling hors d'oeuvres through his foam head and into his salivating mouth. 

“Yo, Oracle,” Mikey whispered through the mic built into his second head.

“Don’t call me that,” Don grumbled. Static flickered over the line. DVR’ed soap operas floated in faintly from the background. “What’s… ugh. Hold on, Mikey. Sir, I promise you I am doing everything I can to–yes, sir, I understand completely, but I–” A pause and a sigh, then Don muttered under his breath. “Fucking jackass. Moron. What’s up, Mike?”

“There aren’t any kids at this party, dude.”

“So?”

“Sooo…” Mikey raked his brain for a response. “That’s weird, right? Like, why would she hire me if there ain’t any kiddos?”

“I don’t know, Mikey. Maybe she’s bored. Maybe she’s lonely. Maybe she and the other socialites thought it would be _quaint_ to invite a children’s entertainer to their shindig. Do you need help?”

“No.”

“Do you feel threatened?”

“No, but–”

“Then stop bothering me. I’ve got work t–No, sir, I wasn’t talking to you. Sir. _Sir._ No, my supervisor isn’t available right no–”

The line went dead. Mikey looked around the room. Slim, elegant people mingled in cocktail dresses and pressed white shirts, grasping champagne flutes in gloved hands. Wall length windows flanked the gigantic room, gifting a view of the glittering city below that was probably woulda been breathtaking to the partygoers, had any of them pulled their painted faces outta each other’s asses long enough to look. For Mikey, it was old news. Nostalgic at best. He tried not to look.

Part of him felt stupid glued to the wall. Out of place in his pads and big, cartoonish head. Another part of him said stupidity was underrated, and he might as well enjoy the party because how often did chances like this come up? Even if all the dudes looked like douchebags and the ladies like they’d smelled something sour, the food looked good.

Leo’s head would have exploded watching Mikey shove off the wall and work the crowd, flashing a bright smile that no one could see. But Leo wasn’t there, wasn’t even in the country, and what Leo didn’t know wouldn’t get Mikey extra flips. So Mikey talked and waved and joked his way to the buffet table, then ducked into the bathroom to chow down on sundried tomato bruschetta and dump champagne down his throat.

He’d never had champagne before. It tasted like the color, _champagne_ , bubbly amber hues gliding over his tongue to dance in his tummy. The two glasses he’d snagged slipped past his lips like cool, clear water on a hot day. Bubbles fizzed and popped in his veins. If it weren’t for the grinning helmet, Mikey was sure his whole head would have floated away.

Smacking his lips, Mikey ventured out to find more champagne.

“There you are,” Candance exclaimed as he stumbled out of the bathroom. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

“Oh, uh…” Mikey stammered. His head felt unnaturally heavy, abnormally large. Was this what it felt like to be Donnie? “You found me. Cowabunga, dude. Uh, I mean, cowabunga… ma’am?”

“You’re drunk,” She purred, smirking, At least, he thought she was smirking. It was difficult to tell through his mesh eyeholes.

Finding no excuse for himself, Mikey just shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah. There was no one at the buffet, so I just… y’know. Helped myself.”

If Candance was bothered by this, she gave no indication. She just nodded dismissively and talked. Her slim, dark hands waved empathically as she spoke. Mikey watched them with fascination, not really listening. Instead, he watched the light glint off her manicured nails, the way her full, maroon lips formed words, the bounce of her tight curls as she bobbed her head.

After a while, though, she stopped talking and stared at Mikey expectantly.

“Huh?”

“I said, I’m sorry about this,”

“Huh? ‘Bout what?”

“Marcus,” she said, raising her arched eyebrows. “My son? He and his friends were supposed to be here, but his father changed his mind at the last minute. You were already here by the time he finally had the balls to call.”

“Oh,” Mikey added intelligently. Candance stared at him.

“I’ll still pay you, of course. And you’re welcome to stay for the party. You can put your costume in the bedroom.”

She gestured again, but this time Mikey was paying attention. “Uhh, thanks, but no can do. I don’t have anything else to wear.”

“Oh, of course. Well, my husband may have left some clothes in the closet. You’re free to take a look.” Waving her hand once more, she flounced away to attend to her guests.

Mikey stared down the hallway, blinking slowly. Marble spun with flecks of glitter caught the light from the parlor and threw it up in iridescent swirls. It bounced from the polished white walls like light through water. The thought of champagne dimmed in Mikey’s mind and he wandered down the hall, touching each shiny doorknob and wondering about the lives lived behind those doors. They were different from his, that was for sure.

At the end of the hall stood the door Candance had indicated as the bedroom. It stood tall and impassive. For a moment, Mikey hesitated. Leo would tell him that he should just leave. That whatever was behind Candance Morgan’s bedroom door was none of his business. That every moment he spent in this swanky apartment was another moment that he risked exposing his true identity to the partygoers. Was a risk.

But Leo wasn’t here.

Mikey pushed open the door and walked into a magazine ad. A massive bed sat in the middle of the room, swathed with rich, dark blankets. A polished nightstand stood next to it and a matching chest of drawers adjacent. A plush chair draped with a chenille throw angled near a sliding door which lead out to a wrought-iron balcony. The only sign that a human actually lived in the room was a paperback on the end table, stuck with a slim bookmark in favor of dog-eared pages.

The closet blended so perfectly into the wall that it took Mikey a moment to find it, even in the darkness. He blamed the champagne. When Mikey pulled his Cowabunga Carl head off and tossed it on the bed, he blamed it again. Rows of slinky dresses stretched before him, shimmering like jewels in the dim moonlight streaming through the balcony door. Some felt like silk, others like crepe, but all of them decadent. Mikey ran his fingers over the delicate, fresh-smelling dresses and imagined Candance getting dressed in the morning. Moisturizing and picking out her hair. Gliding lipstick over her lips. Dropping one of these dresses over her head, pulling it down over her ample breasts and full hips.

Pushing to the ends of the closet, Mikey found the husband’s clothes. There was trouble in paradise, if the closet was any indication. But Mikey plucked out a suit and backed out of the closet.

Facing the dresser mirror, he held the black pants and jacket up to himself. It was too small, obviously. His shell would rip out of it like the Hulk. He imagined Candance walking in as he tore out of her husband’s suit like a monster. She put her hand up to her mouth and screamed in silent horror, fainting onto a non-existent chaise lounge. Mikey barked out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. Nope, no suit for him.  No fancy closet smelling of fabric softener. Just a dank sewer and a foam head. 

“Did you find–oh my god!”

Mikey froze, horror overtaking the bitterness. He hadn’t heard the doorknob turn–why hadn’t he heard it!?–and Candance stood in the doorway, hand at her throat, brown eyes wide.

“What,” she asked, her voice scarcely a whisper. “What _are_ you!?”

Mikey said the first thing that came to mind. “I’m Cowabunga Carl.”

Maybe she thought he was an alcohol-induced hallucination. Maybe she thought he was a really weird joke played by her estranged husband. Whatever the case, at least she wasn’t screaming. Candance stood still, one hand at her throat while the other gripped the doorknob tightly, and stared at Mikey.

“I, uh,” Mikey said, chuckling nervously. A wide, anxious grin spread over his face, making Candance flinch. “I’ll just be going…”

He turned, opting for the fire escape, rather than trying to push past Candance at the door. She didn’t move as he slid the door open and shut it politely behind himself, then sailed off the side of the building like Spiderman. She didn’t see his tipsy stumble over the lower balcony, his not-so-graceful roll into a dumpster. Stupid! How had he let that happen? Been seen by her!? Not that anyone would believe Candance, if she told anyone. But Mikey imagined his father’s rebuke and cringed. No need to tell anyone about his little incident. If Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell worked for the military, Mikey saw no reason it couldn’t work for him.

At least, he thought so until he woke up the next evening to a text from Candance.

“You forgot your head,” her message said. Mikey stared at the electronic text blearily through the darkness of his room. Shit. She was right! He’d left it right there on the bed when he’d ducked out the balcony. Fuck! He couldn’t tell Don. He could imagine his look of exasperation well enough. He didn’t need to see it. Splinter was out of the question as well, and Raph wouldn’t give a damn.

Maybe he should just leave it there. Not respond to her text at all. He could get another head. But then he’d have to explain _why_ he needed another head…

“Sry,” he texted back. “Just leave it on the balcony 4 me? I promise I won’t hurt u.”

“Okay.”

The city was quieter than usual as Mikey made his way back to Candance’s apartment that Christmas night. Families were shut up indoors, sleeping off exorbitant meals or just relishing each other’s company. His own family hadn’t celebrated that year. No one felt particularly festive. Mikey’s efforts to infect a little cheer into the lair had been met with indifference, so he stopped trying. If they wanted to be a bunch of Scrooges, let them. But he knew in his heart why no one much felt like celebrating, and he couldn’t really blame them. He missed Leo too, worried about him constantly, wondered if he was dead or alive. He tried to keep up appearances, tried to smile and laugh. It had been easier when Raph got mad and stomped off, or when Don rolled his eyes. Now they just ignored him.

So, why not? Why not go meet a pretty lady on Christmas, even if it was just to retrieve his foam head off her balcony? Sure beat skulking around the lair, listening to Don try to placate idiots or watching his dad age in real-time.

“Where are you going?” Don asked, muting his headset.

“Out,” Mikey replied, giving the line Raph always did when he’d first started spending every night away from home. No one asked Raphael where he was going anymore.

A deep frown creased Don’s face, but Mikey didn’t stick around to argue and Don didn’t follow him. Not that Mikey expected him to. Following would imply he cared enough to get out of his chair and _do something._ Mikey laughed quietly as he made his way to the surface. When had he become so bitter?

He took his time getting to Candance’s apartment. As the city was unusually empty, it was also unusually beautiful. From the rooftops, the sludgy gray patches of dirty snow almost looked white. Christmas lights glowed, strung between buildings like old-fashioned clothes lines, swooping between wreathed lampposts, crisscrossing the city in twinkling light. Perching on a roof across from Candance’s building, he could make out the glittering outline of her garish tree behind a drawn curtain. Set against its light was the silhouette of Cowabunga Carl’s head. Get in, grab the head, get out. Easy peasy.

Mikey closed the distance in a few well-judged leaps. Grasping the rails of the balcony, he hauled himself up and over. On silent feet, he dashed to the table and grabbed his left-behind bit of costumery. To the average observer, it was as though it simply disappeared. One second it was there, and the next it was gone. Candance wasn’t a ninja, nor was she extraordinary observant, but she _was_ waiting for Michelangelo to show up. Just inside the door she waited, so that when the head vanished, she stepped out. Already, Mikey was gone from view, like a Christmas ghost, but she called out anyway.

“Carl, wait!”

Something about the tone of her voice implored Mikey to listen. Jewel tones, like her dresses, with just a touch of melancholy. Leaning over the edge of the roof, he peeked down at her, watched as her head swiveled back and forth, long neck craning to get a glimpse of where “Carl” had disappeared to. Her hands stayed firmly at her sides, no longer drawn to her throat or mouth with terror.

Mikey wasn’t scared of Candance Morgan. Wasn’t worried she’d expose his secret. And yet, he did not heed her call. What was the point? Did he honestly believe this woman would… what? Be his friend, like April and Casey? Maybe, but he couldn’t take the risk. Hell, even his own _brother_ had abandoned him, betrayed the family. What hope did Candance Morgan have?

Head clutched under his arm, Mikey bounded away from the building, leaving Candance to stare into the night air and wonder.


End file.
